Give it up?
by Deanosaurius
Summary: WARNING: AU! Highschool one, to be precise. Their father a brutal idiot. His brother gone - no one knows where. The lesbian best friend, his angel. And then her brother. The devil? The sin? Dean Winchester, stuck in the most miserable life imagineable, runs away with a friend and realizes that there's more to life than pain and fear. Destiel smut, swearing, rated for reasons!
1. Stuck

"You should take care of him sometime", the long and thin man said.  
"I know. I know Alistair, but trust me, I haven't found the correct way to introduce my help yet." he folded his hands behind his back and peered out into the misty morning. The weather was not the least little bit unusual for November and the two men were happy that they could sit in their heated bureaus with hot coffee or tea and cookies. They were talking about a student, a certain Dean Winchester. No one really knew who his father was or how he treated him, but it was known for sure that his little brother, Sam, had either committed suicide or run away. Actually they didn't know anything but the fact that Samuel Winchester was gone. But the father had never bothered to inform anyone about his missing son. Alistair grabbed a pile of maths tests and skimmed through the names on the papers.  
"Here", he handed one to the headmaster. "He's not dumb, but his missing school definitely ruins his chances." Crowley stared at the narrow and small and chaotic writing in horror.  
"What exactly is that?" He asked, pointing at a series of numbers and letters, mixed with equasion symbols. Alistair grinned: "the work of a genius! He's such a brilliant kid! He just ... all the stuff I taught the kids when he was gone he figured out during the test, he just ran out of time before he could use the formula!" Crowleys eyebrow shot up, wrinkling his forehead and giving him an unusual puzzled expression.  
"What do you recommend, what actions shall I take?" His nasal voice went up several tunes, as always when he was stressed. Apparently this Winchester kid really bothered him. Alistair chuckled. He knew how he would save Dean. They had a deal going on. Maybe it wasn't a great one and it definitely was morally incorrect, but it made sure Dean wouldn't flunk out of high school.

"Dean, would you mind staying after lesson a little longer?" The teenage boy stared up into the needy face of his maths and physics teacher. He saw the pure, animalic desire in his eyes. He sat down the pieces of the ball pen on the table, sighed and then nodded. In agony. He hated this. These extra-lessons. But he was helpless, his father a drunk, and since his little Sammy had disappeared (Dean couldn't image his baby brother killing himself) the father had turned on his older son. Dean had seen it on his brother before, the blue and green bruised abuse and the gushing red violence from arms and legs covered in long and knobby scars, and now he knew it himself. The urgent need to pull a knife through his sweet, but dirtied flesh. The burning pain, the sudden frost before he collapsed another time on the bathroom floor, the dull throb when he didn't get up fast enough again and John had "taken care of business". Which basically meant hitting and kicking an injured, desperate, broken and unconscious boy. But Dean was dependant on that father. He couldn't afford him being sent away, because then he'd be brought to another place, an orphanage and little Sammy would never find him again.  
"Yes, sir." Dean watched the man have a little chat with two very hot chicks before sending the rest of the people out, wishing them a nice weekend, locking the door and closing the shutters of the classroom windows.  
"Where have you been last week? I thought about calling the local police. But then I decided to be merciful, as your little brother wouldn't know about your whereabouts." Dean pressed his lips together. He had skipped school because he didn't feel like sucking the old man's cock. It was ugly, it was disgusting, it reminded him of his dirty work. Dean was bar-keeper in a strip club, but he hated it. It was loud, the clients were ugly and the chicks only smelled of sex and sweat and alcohol and they weren't hot. They looked worn out and broken, and there were only three who weren't addicted to heroin.  
"My father beat me up. My face was bruised all over." Alistair stroked across Dean's cheek lovingly, unbuttoning his trousers. Dean closed his eyes for a moment, then drew a deep breath. That man let him suffer if he dared missing their weekly 'extra lessons'. Dean wondered, if the headmaster knew of this. But on the other hand, mister McLeod surely had other stuff to fix.  
"Yours too", the teacher ordered.  
"What?" Dean backed away. Alistair, now he was allowed to call him by his first name, grinned, dirty, and the evil promise behind it hit Dean like a lightning bolt, this man would rape him if he didn't do as he was told to. "No... Sir, please..." he dropped to his knees, his eyes widened in fear, begging the man to stop and just let him do the usual, which was disgusting enough, but not as shameful as sex. Alistair just laughed and pulled the student up from the floor. He dragged him over to the desk, throwing the stiff body over it and then ... well, Dean didn't feel it, didn't want to feel the teacher penetrating him, so painfully and without a warning, Dean felt ripped apart, completely loosing himself in the void he entered whenever this extra lesson was on Alisatirs mind. Tears of agony and shame were rolling over his cheeks, he did feel very worthless.  
_Sorry Sam_, he thought, _but maybe suicide is a way out. Why did you leave me here?_


	2. Red Haired ANgel

**A/N: Okay, this is my second story around here, and my English teacher does a great job at making me insecure, so if you find any mistakes, pleasepleaseplease tell me I want to improve my writing ));**  
**Dedicated to my Twitter "crushes" by the way :3  
Hope you enjoy yourself!**

Dean sat on the backseat of his beloved Impala, on a little dusty road in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by fields in which the corn stood high, as did the sun, soaking up the heat even if he knew it wouldn't get rid of the icy chill inside him. He cherished the silence. It helped him to think.  
Dean cursed that one day when Alistair had suddenly shown up at their porch, Dean on the floor, covered in blood and sweat and tears, and John kicking him, hard, because his blood had made a huge mess all over the house. Alistair had grinned, and excused himself for interrupting, and then, the next Monday, he made Dean suck his cock. In return be promised not to tell anyone about the situation at his home. Dean didn't trust that man anyways, but what was he supposed to do?  
He shifted, uncomfortable with his position. He felt so dirty. But there was no way in changing that. He thought about suicide. He'd only have to open both arms at the same time, a little deeper maybe, and then wait.  
But what if Sammy came home?  
He was such a cute and sentimental boy, he wouldn't survive John's beatings without Dean to hold him and cradle him to sleep, singing him their mother's songs. He lay his hand on his face and sighed. He'd been through that scenario several times, he'd tossed and turned it, but it remained the way it was - whichever direction Dean moved away from this place, Sam wouldn't find him without a note where to go. He sighed.  
The body he was stuck in ached like hell and he was sure that it was seriously injured, especially where the maths and physics teacher had entered it with force.  
He felt vomit spilling up from the insides. But there was nothing more left in the body than the bitter and disgusting juice from the stomach.  
Dean choked. He had that always when Alistair forced him to any sort of sexual intercourse. Throwing up was his way of cleaning himself up a little. But this time it wouldn't get him very far. He still could feel the teacher's dick stuck inside the anus, coated with stinking, disgusting lube and the old man moaning and spasming on his back. He had been pressed onto the table with the complete weight of him, his entrance brutally opened by two fingers slick with sweat and saliva and lube, so needy that man, pure egoism.  
If this was what gay sex was about Dean could very well understand why so many people were disgusted from the thought of homosexual relationships. The disgust and pain he had felt..! But even if it was that way, his best friend was lesbian, and Anna was an angel. She'd always be perfect for Dean. Anna made him smile whenever he was so down he couldn't even take a knife and cut his wrist. She'd been the one to take the razor blade from him after Alistair had forced him the first time. She'd be the one who'd save him today. Right at that thought he heard a bike's screeching brakes. Anna's bike. Dean had built it together from old ones, her parents had got her a new and shiny mountainbike two weeks later, but she refused to ride it. "My bike might be old and rusty and ugly on the outside, but it's full of love", she had said and given her parents the 240 bucks the new one had cost. Dean smiled weakly. "Because the bike is like you, Dean." She opened the door to the drivers seat and kneeled on the old and worn but nonetheless comfy leather. "Don't tell me it's nothing. You've been here for three hours, I've gone mad searching for you. You simply vanished." She grabbed his hand from his face. He ignored her, stared out of the window opposite to him. "Dean. You smell of vomit. What _happened_? I'm taking you to hospital now. _Answer me_." Her eyes were fixed on his face. He rubbed across his eyes, fiercely pressing them shut as if he could get rid of reality. Of course he couldn't. He heard the trunk being opened and shut, then the door to the drivers seat snapped shut. "Last chance to ride shotgun." She turned around, brushing her hair aside very annoyed. "Fuck this" she murmured, then picked up a hair tie from Dean's massive collection. From endless episodes of quick car sex, take-her-homes and the ones extra bought for Anna. She tied up her hair in a messy knot and started the engine. Radio went on immediately. She sighed. "Does it have to be Bon Jovi? And by the way, I'd very much appreciate it if you fastened your seatbelt." Dean still didn't move. "Okay then, have it your way" she snorted and turned towards the street. Her delicate but very pale fingers were clenched angrily around the steering wheel. She hated to see Dean like that. Even worse, he didn't talk. Probably Alistair had ... no. She didn't want to think of that. He hadn't. Dean probably just... She remembered, last Friday he hadn't been to school. Shit. His phone rang. Anna knew that Dean didn't care about it, so she hit the brakes and picked up the call. "This is Anna speaking for Dean Winchester." She listened patiently to the man on the other end. When it was enough she simply said "excuse me sir, he's in hospital right now I'll do it for him. Yes, half an hour." Again the man erupted an outburst of very delicate swearing. "Give it to me", Dean suddenly stretched out his hand to the front. Anna handed him the phone, casting him a questioning glance. Dean listened to his boss for several minutes. "Yes of course now just shut the fuck up and mind your language when talking to a girl." He snapped the phone shut.  
"Are you talking to me now?" She gave him a deadly stare.  
"So totally not talking to you, Miss." A weak cocky grin crept on his lips.  
"I'm taking you to the doctor's, then you're coming with me _NO_ contradiction." Dean raised an eyebrow.  
"I wasn't even-"  
Anna turned around, raising an eyebrow as well. "Yes?"  
Dean ducked and signaled defeat to her. Confidently Anna finally hit the road.

He liked it when Anna drove the Impala, even if he'd never admit it to her. Well, that wasn't exactly necessary because Anna knew everything about him. His addiction to senseless and emotionless sex. His urgent need to destroy himself whenever someone did him wrong. His mindless and totally stupid love and the even worse worries about Sammy, she knew every detail. Anna had finished school three years ago, now she was studying psychology, but she was on semester break right now. Luckily Dean would be on holiday as soon as she had to be back on campus grounds, and Anna would not leave him alone with his brutal and stupid constantly drunk father. She started shuffling through the playlist on her iPod while they stood at a traffic light, then she plucked it into tthe car's stereo system. Her favorite band played Dean's favorite song. Hero Of War. He actually preferred 70's rock, but that song was okay with him, too. He liked Anna's taste in music, even though he'd never admit it. But, as always, Anna knew. She knew the smile in his eyes, the deep and relaxed breathing, the little wrinkle that hid his smile. There was no need to talk. Anna could imagine what had happened. She didn't want to believe it, though. She'd promised Sam after all to look after Dean. That's why she had come back to her hometown in first place. She pulled the car over into the hospital's parking lot. "Dean baby, can you walk?" His glare was even better than Sams epic bitch faces. But as soon as he clambered out of the door he had to ask Anna for help. She put an arm around his waist and carried a bit of his weight. The receptionist lady shot Anna an upset glance. The red haired girl looked at the lady with a disapproving expression. She was one of her ex-girlfriend's mother, a very conservative and intolerant lady. "My brother was _raped_ I don't have time for your disgust of your own daughter, ma'am." Dean made a face. She was pretty ... direct. The receptionist called them a doctor. He was a young guy, with great knowledge of his work, and Dean only cried out on pain twice. Anna stood by, refusing to leave when Dean had to get his jeans off. The doctor kept the atmosphere very casual, talked about ice cream and asked Anna about her younger brother (they had decided to pretend it was best if they pretended not to be from around. "So you're going back to Vegas again?" Anna nodded and squeezed Deans shoulder lightly. "Yeah. Around here is no good." Dean added, looking into the serious and worn out face of Anna's. Deep wrinkles cut through her forehead and the blood vessels were sticking out a little from her hands. As always, when she was upset. The doctor nodded, then wrote something onto a paper. "Antiseptic, pain meds and instructions how to use this" he held out a bottle of cream. Anna took it, just as the receipt, and thanked the doctor for his patience. He just smiled: "There were two boys in this town, this loving with each other, but their father is a drunk. He hits and kicks them, and then the younger one disappeared. Suicide or murder, we don't know, but we miss little Sammy around here. Such a lively child..! And His brother, very handsome for a guy." He winked at Anna. "I'm lesbian", she commented, took Dean's hand and pulled him out of the hospital and into the car.  
"You owe me Captain America. Or The Avengers."  
"Or Thor or The Incredible Hulk, right?" Anna smiled and hugged him tightly. "I'm so glad you're back to normal again." He gave her a weak smile. "I'm driving you home", he gently stroked her cheek. The touch caught him a deadly glare. "You can so forget that. I'm bringing you to your place, you get your stuff and you sleep at my house. I'm not letting you alone with that drunk of yours. And quit looking down at me. I'm not a ridiculous little kid!"  
A fat grin spread across Deans face and he picked his red haired angel up from the ground. Anna squealed and squirmed, kicking and scratching and desperate to get off his shoulder.  
She couldn't. "Jerk."  
"Bitch."  
"Let go!"  
"Nope."  
"JERK! Let me down now!" Anna laughed and playfully boxed his back. It was normal for Dean to carry her over his shoulder, because of her height and weight, and it absolutely was enjoyable for both Anna and Dean. It just showed them how much they were there for each other, loving and waiting, longing and worried. Their friendship was sacred for Dean, he couldn't believe being without Anna. He sure would not admit this too soon, but deep down below his bow legged, leather jacket, solid rock music, cocky grin shell he was relieved that Anna cared about him so much. Sometimes he did get the feeling that Sam never had been interested in his feelings. That he would never come back to Dean. That it had been suicide.

**A/N: sorry for the trouble posting this chapther btw... **


End file.
